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    Terror's Twilight Sleep: Doc. Turner Series
    Terror's Twilight Sleep: Doc. Turner Series
    Terror's Twilight Sleep: Doc. Turner Series
    Ebook34 pages26 minutes

    Terror's Twilight Sleep: Doc. Turner Series

    By Arthur Leo Zagat and Rafat Allam

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    About this ebook

    Terror's Twilight Sleep by Arthur Leo Zagat is a spine-chilling horror tale that delves into the darkest corners of the human mind. When a new medical procedure promises peaceful, dreamless sleep, those who partake soon find themselves trapped in a nightmarish reality where terror reigns supreme. As their deepest fears come to life, the line between dream and reality blurs, and the only escape may be death itself. Can anyone survive the horrors that lurk in the twilight between consciousness and oblivion, or will they all succumb to the sinister forces that seek to claim their souls? This haunting story will keep you awake at night, questioning the true nature of sleep.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAl-Mashreq eBookstore
    Release dateAug 25, 2024
    ISBN9785832877082
    Terror's Twilight Sleep: Doc. Turner Series

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      Book preview

      Terror's Twilight Sleep - Arthur Leo Zagat

      Table of Contents

      Terror's Twilight Sleep

      Synopsis

      1

      2

      Terror's Twilight Sleep

      Doc. Turner Series

      By: Arthur Leo Zagat

      Edited by: Rafat Allam

      Copyright © 2024 by Al-Mashreq Bookstore

      First published in The Spider, June 1938

      No part of this publication may be reproduced whole or in part in any form without the prior written permission of the author

      All rights reserved.

      Synopsis

      Over the river's dark surface rowed the strange crew of corpse corsairs, their captain a man who stole brains as well as booty—and only Doc Turner knew how to trap this thief who threatened to plunge the whole world into a twilight sleep of terror!

      The Spider, June 1938, with Terror's Twilight Sleep

      1

      THE sprawling trestle of the El roofed Morris Street with blackness. The tumult of the slum day had faded to a restless post-midnight hush, but a timorous breeze, sifting up from the river, could not sweep the deserted thoroughfare clean of the odor of poverty. It was a distinctive compound of spoiled vegetables, of sweat unwashed from toil-wearied bodies, of shoddy clothing and rotted shoe leather.

      From the windows of a drugstore two huge glass bottles laid red and green light-streaks across the debris-strewn pavement. In the doorway of the grimy pharmacy stood a bent, feeble-seeming old man. His cheeks were gaunt and netted with fine wrinkles, faded-blue eyes fogged with weariness, hair silky white.

      His long day was ended, but Andrew Turner was loath to leave the shop where he had spent more years than he cared to recall. There might still be someone in need of him, some infant suddenly choking with the croup, some—

      The thud of a footfall from around the corner turned Doc Turner toward it, his gnarled, acid-stained fingers tugging at the bushy droop of his mustache. The sound came again. A frown of perplexity creased the druggist's wrinkled brow.

      There was something peculiar about the cadence of those footfalls, something too precisely measured—too unresiliently ponderous. It was almost as if not a human but a machine pounded, thud-thud-thud, on the concrete. Yet the sounds were unmistakably footfalls, and what possible machine could

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